


How to Clean Your Gun (In Just Five Easy Steps)

by sparkly_butthole



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic)
Genre: Badass Jake Jensen, Canon-Typical Violence, Catholic Guilt, Comfort Shower, Healing Through Kisses, Internalized Homophobia, Jake is not in a good headspace for some of this fic, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, mentions of castration, working through trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 21:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_butthole/pseuds/sparkly_butthole
Summary: “How come you never let me take care of you?”Cougar takes the gun and immediately unloads it. Jensen doesn’t fight him. “You just did,” he murmurs, and feels a thrill as Jensen smiles. It’s a small thing, but beautiful nonetheless.“I did, didn’t I?”Like a fucking badass, Cougar thinks.He just grins in response.





	How to Clean Your Gun (In Just Five Easy Steps)

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is really weird. The metaphor and title kind of came to me all at once, and that has never happened before, but this time it did, and behold! A fic was born. I hope it's a good fic, and I hope you wild folks like it.
> 
> Special thanks to cleo4u2 for beta and yelling and squeeing and general encouragement I always get. Also literally everyone who reads and enjoys the Losers, people I'm getting to know and people I already know, I appreciate all of you.

**Step 1. Unload the gun.**

Crimson. 

Everywhere. 

Blood and blood and _ blood, _ like stepping through a mud pit. Brain matter and bits of bone littering the ground, and god, the _ smell _ , and the bodies that are sprawled haphazardly like toy soldiers or particularly morbid bowling pins. It is fucking everywhere; fucking _ rivers _ of it. 

Cougar’s perception slows to a crawl in those first few moments. He expects the blood to be his own, to see it, maybe, as he falls to the ground, breathing his last. If it _ had _ been his, he’d have never been aware of it, or of anything else, except perhaps a single split-second of pain. Gone before it could even register. He wouldn’t have fucking _ seen _ anything then. But he does see it. In fact, it’s _ all _he sees. Which means…

Well. He’s alive, and someone saved him. Start with that.

Another second ticks by, another millennia until something other than utter destruction can make its way through his hard fucking head so he can make room for some new thought. Still not much sensory information, either, just color_ (RED!) _ and the ringing in his ears that means guns with no protection. Like ear herpes. Always comes back after the first time, and at the most inopportune moments, too.

It feels like it takes for-fucking-ever, but finally the scene’s sinking in. The adrenaline’s still pumping so hard he’s practically seeing double, but he can add two and two and not get five now, so reality’s coming back in bits and pieces. The only question is whether or not he wants it to. 

Cougar’s not so sure he does.

He doesn’t bother questioning his continued survival. That’s not what’s at stake here. It’s more like… rescue came, but it was more like dropping a nuke on Hiroshima than a _ Hi, we’re here and would appreciate it if you’d give us back our guy, thanks. _ Not that Cougar’d expected that, but still. He could literally bathe himself in blood if he wanted to, what the _ fuck _. 

Cougar’s in a warehouse - he could tell that much even with the blindfold they’d had on him before everything went_ ka-blooey _. The place is almost empty, obviously a cover for the people running this operation, some cult that fancies themselves saviors of humanity. Or something. It’s not clear, hadn’t been from the get-go - briefings tend to run together; his job is to shoot where they point. All he knows is that these people are more than insane, and he’s goddamn lucky to be alive, not to mention whole. They’d fucking castrated that other poor bastard before they’d shot his head off. Jesus.

The reason he’s alive is kneeling in the midst of a sea of fallen men, staring dead-eyed at the MP-5 that hangs limply from his hand. 

Jensen. Of course.

“The others?” Cougar asks, limping his way toward his teammate. 

“Not here yet.” 

Cougar nods, absorbing this. There are fifteen dead men in the center of an open space with zero cover. Meaning that Jensen had killed _ fifteen men _ before they could kill him. Maybe even before they could hurt him at all, judging by his appearance, and all for Cougar’s sake. 

“You okay?” 

Jensen takes a moment to answer, not that Cougar needs to hear it. Dead silence from Jensen is a capital P Problem. “Graze on my shoulder. Tweaked my knee doing a barrel roll. Note to self: You are not actually a barrel. Guess I didn’t know that before today.” 

Cougar chuckles, moving a few steps closer. He’s seen this kind of thing before, men who hit a wall after a fight like this. Adrenaline crash, mostly, but some never quite recover. PTSD, shell shock, whatever someone wants to call it. Sometimes, Jensen had informed him once, surgeons who have been practicing for years hit a wall like that, too. They hover over the patient, already on the operating room table, prepped and gowned like any other Tuesday, and they just… can’t do it anymore. Their hands shake and their heads can’t get straightened out and they’re not themselves anymore. 

“Jake,” he says, kneeling on the blood-soaked floor, “hand me the gun.”

Jensen’s astonished eyes snap to his. “You don’t think I’m gonna… what? Use it on myself? Use it on _ you _?” 

_ Not really, _ Cougar thinks. _ Just SOP. _

“You need to get cleaned up. Don’t worry about that. I’ve got the gun.”

“Somehow you’re always taking care of me,” Jensen says with a bitter twist to his mouth. “How come you never let me take care of you?”

Cougar takes the gun and immediately unloads it. Jensen doesn’t fight him. “You just did,” he murmurs, and feels a thrill as Jensen smiles. It’s a small thing, but beautiful nonetheless.

“I did, didn’t I?”

_ Like a fucking badass _, Cougar thinks. 

He just grins in response.

  
  
  
  


**Step 2. Visual check and wipe-down.**

  


The temporary base they’ve been assigned to is threadbare - no machine shop, no hospital, just a few medics and an urgent care tent, so they’d better not get a life-threatening injury, or they’re “mostly on our own,” as Clay likes to put it. Usually they’re stuck in a shitty bolt-hole somewhere in the middle of nowhere, so all things considered, this is an upgrade. 

The best part is that the place is often a ghost town. The Losers get their own wing of the barracks to themselves, two to a room instead of six smelly Army brats cramped onto cots, impatiently waiting for the others to fall asleep so they can jerk off. Jensen loves it because he has access to the main computer and doesn’t have to rely on shitty Army Wi-Fi. Pooch, the odd man out, shares a suite with some green kid here on a special assignment with another team. Well, Cougar thinks of him as green in the same way he’d thought of Jensen as green when he’d first arrived. He hasn’t seen the kind of action they have, that’s all. This kind of shit is relative. And the kid’s scared. Jensen had never been, but then, Jensen _ is _ a born Loser. 

They all are. Cougar might as well be mute for all he says (with the exception of Jensen when they’re alone) Roque is violent as all fuck for no goddamn reason Cougar can discern, and Clay courts total destruction in female form whenever he can. Jensen is… Jensen. Pooch is the only one of them that’s half-normal, but that's only because his wife is waiting for him at home and would kick his ass if she knew the shit they got up to sometimes. He’s gotta keep it somewhat sane for her sake. 

Cougar’s gotten Jensen out of the warehouse of death, back to the FOB, and into the shower within the hour after the assault, but it’s been both stressful and tedious - the kind of situation, Jensen has explained, that humans have not evolved to handle. Biologically, it’s bad for business. He can see why. The blood crusting in Jensen’s hair, drying on his skin, makes him appear even more pale than usual. His bright blue eyes stare into the distance. It gives Cougar the heebie-jeebies, that look that’s far too close to death. It’s all he can do to stop himself from checking and re-checking Jensen’s vital signs. Stupid. Like _ he’s _ a green kid. This is what they do for a _ living. _

So why is this time different? Why was Jensen alone, why did he bring an SMG, why - _ how _\- did he kill fifteen heavily-armed men with barely a scratch? So many questions. Nowhere near enough answers.

Their suite might be impressive, relatively speaking, but the shower’s still barely guarded by a thin sheet which a man could see right through if he wanted. Since it’s just the two of them, he leaves it open in favor of getting Jensen in and keeping him on his feet. Jensen’s a bit more lucid now, glazed eyes finally tracking Cougar, but he’s still unsteady on his feet, so Cougar leans him against the wall with a _ stay put _ gesture as he grabs the soap and shampoo. 

Jensen listens because he’s inclined to listen to Cougar more than anyone else - Clay grumbles about that a lot, much to both of their amusement - and because he’s not in any shape to disobey orders anyway. He merely continues watching Cougar gather the items necessary to care for him. 

Cougar takes the shower head and removes it from the wall. He hoses Jensen down, so, _ so _ gently, cupping a callused hand over his face when he runs the water through his hair. The water making its way down Jensen’s body runs crimson, then through stages of red and pink, and finally clear, but Cougar keeps going. The way Jensen’s spiky blond hair had looked in the warehouse light, his angel of death come to avenge him… it makes Cougar’s hair stand up and his stomach ache like he’s gonna hurl. 

People romanticize this shit. It’s not romantic. Jensen had killed for him - not for his job, for_ him _ \- and that deserves a closer look later, when this part is through, but it had hurt him to do it. It had hurt Cougar to see it, and scared him, too. That particular memory will stick with him for a long time. 

He’s slow and careful with the rest of Jensen, too, making sure there are no injuries, nothing beyond what Jensen had admitted before he’d gone silent. He’s not bruised, not cut, not broken in any visible manner, but god, if only Cougar could make sure Jensen’s okay in that indescribable, visceral way all military men are desperate to hang onto. 

Sanity, that’s what it boils down to. And Cougar realizes how unfair it is of him to think of them as slightly insane; fuckin’ weird, fucked-up, flawed individuals they may be, but not this; not out there, not _ gone _ . Not like that. Not _ real. _

But Cougar’s mostly done cleaning Jensen from head to toe, and there are increasing signs of life in the depths of those blue eyes he falls into every single fucking time, and here’s the thing - Cougar can’t take this much longer. They’ve been best friends for years now, they’ve fooled around, but it’s more. Jensen knows it, Cougar knows it. The whole base probably knows it. And even though he’s having a deeper, maybe even darker freakout now, Cougar still kisses his crucifix and thanks all that is good in the universe that Jensen is going to be okay. The water’s running clear and the haze in Jensen’s eyes is clearing and he’s going to be okay. 

Cougar steals himself before nonverbally asking permission, which Jensen gives with a short nod and a small smile. He seems so fragile leaning against the shower wall like this, even with his muscles and brass balls. Cougar can’t help but treat him like glass, and normally, it might piss Jensen off, but this time, Jensen just lets it happen. Cougar takes him in hand, slicks him up with soap, strokes him slow until Jensen grows in his hand. This isn’t sexual though, not now, nor is it payback for Jensen saving Cougar’s life. It’s not camaraderie, either; the thought of Roque or Clay or Pooch doing this to each other nearly makes him snort. This is just… them. What they do for each other. 

Jensen needs him, so Cougar’s here. Simple.

It’s about more than the dirt, too; Jensen’s beyond clean by the time Cougar puts down the soap and calls it good. Jensen gestures at him with an _ are you kidding me _ look, because yeah, Cougar had been a damn hostage for three days, which makes him chuckle under his breath and pick up the soap again to give himself a cursory scrub-down. He can feel Jensen’s eyes on him, calmly watching him, making sure he takes care of himself, too. 

He holds out the soap and shampoo as though for inspection once he’s done to make sure Jensen is satisfied that Cougar has been properly cared for. That small smile’s there again, so Cougar figures he’s done well enough. 

They get out, and Jensen wraps himself in his towel, effectively cutting off Cougar’s access to his body. Cougar’s fine with that, or would be, except that Jake still isn’t talking, and that means this one’s going to take a while to get over. Fucking fair, considering. Thank goodness they’ve got time coming up. Cougar sees Jensen to bed before leaving for debriefing and the age-old dance with the brass and Clay’s usual nonsense, with the intention of getting Jensen’s time pushed up a week or two. He’s going to need it. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Step 3. Deconstruct**

The thing about Jensen is that he can be a stubborn ass sometimes. He’s doing okay - he’s talked to all of them on the phone, especially Cougar, about everything and nothing and then some. Typical Jensen bullshit - but he won’t let Cougar come visit. Keeps giving him some goddamn excuse or other. _ Jess is visiting tomorrow _ , like Cougar and Jess don’t get along like a goddamn house on fire, or _ I’m sleeping in _, which is bullshit because no Green Beret became a Green Beret by sleeping in, like, ever. 

So Cougar, being not-at-all passive aggressive, comes knocking. Jensen opens the door readily enough, and his cautious glance turns glum when he sees who it is. 

“Not happy to see your best friend?” Cougar asks with a scoff, pushing past Jensen to set his hat on the kitchen table, a clear statement:_ I’m not leaving _.

Jensen follows, vainly attempting to give Cougar a dirty look, but only managing forlorn. “It’s not that. You know it’s not.”

Cougar crosses his arms and stands with his hips cocked. He can wait Jensen out with the best of them. 

“Cougs, I do this for a living.”

Cougar gestures expansively. “No shit. Why do you think I’m here?”

“It isn’t catching up to me, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Now Jake is petulant, like PTSD is something to be ashamed of. Not that that’s the issue. Cougar’s no psychologist, but it’s not. 

“Why was this time different?”

Jensen’s nostrils flare. That jaw that Cougar has imagined kissing approximately a couple hundred hours tightens. Stubborn like his sister, like his niece. Whole family, bunch of contrarians. He asks himself, not without amusement, why he’s attracted to such beautiful, bull-headed people. 

“It wasn’t. I came and got you. Those men deserved to die. You know they did.”

It’s not like Cougar has ethical qualms about that. Not after what he’s seen. “That wasn’t death. That was vengeance.” Jensen’s jaw shifts. It’s nearly imperceptible, but it’s Cougar’s job to notice things. And he knows this man, almost like he knows himself. “Jake,” he implores, softer this time. Like he’s trying to avoid spooking a yearling. It’s unfair. He knows what that voice does to Jake. Saying his name like that, too. Total asshole move.

Sure enough, Jake’s shoulders drop and he scuffs his feet as he stares at the floor. Cougar, true to form, stays silent. Jensen knows how to talk his way out of a paper bag, but sometimes it takes time to say what’s most important. Cougar can appreciate the sentiment. 

“I don’t know why it’s different,” Jensen mutters. “I know why it’s not, though.” He raises his head to stare Cougar right in the eye, a challenge. “I’m fine. I just need time to process.”

“That’s not the issue,” Cougar says, again aiming to soothe. “We all do sometimes. I don’t doubt you are fine. You are one of the strongest men I know.” And that’s fucking true, because he is. Jake fucking knows it, too, so why are they having this conversation?

Stalling, that’s what. ‘Cause Cougar knows what this is about. 

“Jake,” he repeats more firmly, meeting Jensen’s eyes, meeting the challenge. “I’m staying.”

Jensen just nods and leads him to the guest room.

  


***

Three nights. 

Cougar should’ve made a bet with himself. He knew it’d be inside a week. If Jensen needs to crack, he’ll do it within a week. 

Three nights is quick, though. 

And this isn’t a crack. It’s a fucking breakdown. 

What’s more, Jensen isn’t coming to him for comfort like he normally would. There’s uncertainty in his face, in his steps, a wavering quality to his voice that alarms Cougar, makes his brain go straight to _ Red Alert, _ because this isn’t Jensen. This isn’t how it happens between them. 

Because this time, it’s _ different. _

Jake climbs into bed. Cougar’s bed. In the guest room. He snuggles up to Cougar, rests his head underneath Cougar’s chin and pulls himself in so that Cougar can feel hot breath against his bare chest. 

“I need to talk about it.”

Cougar doesn’t say anything: _ Go on. I’m listening. _

“I know this has been really weird for you, this whole… Whatever this has been. Me showing up like that. And I didn’t even ask you how bad it was. You were there… three days? And all I could think about was… was… I mean…” 

Cougar, master of regulating certain autonomous responses, feels his heartbeat skyrocket. This is so, _ so _ uncharacteristic of Jake. It might take him a while to find words, sure, but once he does, he doesn’t stumble over them. Not like this. 

“They took you and I couldn’t… I couldn’t… God_ dammit, _ Cougs, I didn’t know where you _ were _ or even who _ had _ you until they made that ransom demand, and the brass kept it from us for, like, four hours, and even then we almost lost you. Clay disobeyed orders to let me go. To get you back. You’d have _ died _.”

Well, he’s not wrong. It wouldn’t have been much longer. Even if they’d gotten the ransom, Cougar isn’t sure he would have survived the encounter. 

“I’ve never kissed you before. Do you realize that?”

He’s going to get whiplash from this conversation, or would if this were anything but what it is. On the surface, it seems random, a factoid thrown in _ a la carte _, word vomit straight from the brilliant mind of Jake Jensen, but Jake doesn’t say things like that by accident. It confirms Cougar’s suspicions. And it’s not like he hasn’t thought about that a million times over the years. Watching Jensen jerk off, helping him, giving him an occasional blowjob in the desert behind a van or in a deserted basement. Feeling Jensen’s hot mouth on his own cock, knowing the calluses on his palms only a little less well than he knows his own. 

But he doesn’t know how Jensen’s mouth tastes. Always thought it had too much of an emotional overtone to it, kissing someone. Same with fucking. Jake had once asked - begged him, really, to fuck him. Cougar had said no, and had shut his eyes to avoid the sadness in Jensen’s gaze. He likes to think the apology blowjob was phenomenal, though. 

That was then. There’s likely no going back from this. Cuddling. The way Jensen’s voice struggles on the verge of tears. 

Years of Catholic guilt and ignoring his growing feelings for Jake… well, never let it be said that Carlos Alvarez is a fucking coward. He came here for a reason. He’s been patient. Didn’t know if it would even happen, or how, but now the opportunity is here. 

He’s a sniper. It’s time to pull the trigger.

He leans his head down, pulls Jake’s chin up with his fingers, and brings their lips together. The angle’s a little awkward, but Jake clearly doesn’t care. It’s like he was just waiting for permission. He scoots up on the bed and takes over, pushing Cougar onto his back and leaning over to just own the moment, the way he always does with everything. Cougar admires him so much for that, for his ability to just let go of everything and _ live _. It’s almost the opposite of what Cougar does, taking a step back and away from the world, breathing the world in and out, detached from it.

For all Jake’s eagerness, he is surprisingly soft, letting Cougar open up little by little. Jake’s weight, so solid over him, pressing him into the mattress, feels so comforting, Cougar lets his sniper’s eye take over. He loses track of time, loses track of thought itself, just tastes Jensen and lets Jensen taste him, and allows himself to love unconditionally.

  
  


**Step 4. Lubricate**

By unspoken agreement, they don’t take it any further. This is both old hat and scary-new, and Cougar is a fan of taking a second to process. Jensen not so much, but the last week has been a bit eye-opening on that front. Maybe this has been burning in the back of Jensen’s mind as long as it has been for Cougar. Maybe Cougar doesn’t know his best friend as well as he’d thought. 

Jake falls asleep spooning Cougar instead, strong arms wrapped tightly around him. Cougar feels so calm, so protected, and it’s so _ weird _, because he’s used to being the protector. In all his relationships, he’s the one watching out, watching for anything and everything. But this… he could get used to this. It’s a pleasant surprise. 

“We need to talk about this today,” Jensen murmurs hot into his neck. 

“I’m not surprised,” Cougar says with a snicker. 

The warning bite on his shoulder only makes him laugh harder. “I mean it. We need to figure out what this is.”

Cougar pushes back so he has enough room to turn over and look Jensen square in the eye. The man is so just, _ god, _ breathtakingly beautiful, even at this hour. Six a.m., blinding sun coming through the curtains, morning breath - all of it. Cougar can’t help but stare. 

“What?” Jensen asks, blushing a little at Cougar’s scrutiny. 

“Maybe I like what I see.”

“You were going to say something, though,” Jensen points out. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.” 

When he blushes more, Cougar can’t help but run his hand through Jensen’s sleep-mussed hair. It’s grown long enough he’ll need to cut it soon. The Army had long ago given up on asking Cougar to cut his, though, so maybe he’ll ask Jake to grow it out a bit. They can’t afford to lose either of them. All so Cougar can run his fingers through it, just so he can see Jake’s eyes close like that and hear that contented sigh that gives him goosebumps and makes his heart stutter. 

“Jake,” Cougar murmurs. “Don’t you know what this is already?”

Jake bites his lip, in response to the words or to the fingers working their magic along his scalp, Cougar doesn’t know. “I mean, yeah, I think so. It’s just… my mom always told me the best way to have a good relationship is to communicate, and things might get… complicated, because of the whole, y’know, we’re on a team together thing, so we should have some like, ground rules, right? And there’s also… how I feel, and how, well. How you do, too.”

“What’s changing?” Cougar asks, and smirks when Jensen flails for an answer. “The way I feel about you is no different than it ever was. And no, don’t ask,” he continues when Jensen opens his mouth, “because you know the answer.”

Jensen swallows, adam’s apple bobbing enticingly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“No fair.”

Cougar leans up and pecks Jensen on the cheek. “You’re deflecting. And you know that, too.”

“I feel the same as before, you’re right. Same as you, I bet.”

“I know. So.”

“So. Nothing changes.”

“Nothing changes. There’s our talk.”

Jensen looks like he’s been kicked in the head but, like, in a good way. This is probably one of the most concise conversations he’s ever had, even with Cougar, even though it’s one of the most serious ones, too. And Cougar’s made his point well, thank-you-very-much. 

“No,” Jake says, surprising Cougar. He leans down and nuzzles his nose against Cougar’s. “One thing changes.” 

Cougar grunts at the solid weight of him once again pushing him into the bed. Jake’s heavy and Cougar fucking loves it. “You gonna talk my ear off about that, too?”

Jensen grins deviously. Cougar shudders, unable to look away from those perfect plump lips. “Maybe I’m gonna make you talk about it this time. How would you like that?”

He bites his lip and meets Jake’s eyes. “I think I prefer you. Begging, though, if you’re gonna run your mouth.”

By the time they stumble into the kitchen to refill their severely depleted reserves, they’ve both talked, yelled, moaned, and begged enough to have no voices left.

  
  
  


**Step 5. Check for Stability and Reload. **

“Command, this is Fox-10, over.”

“Copy, Fox-10. Got eyes on the target? Over.”

“Target locked, ready for deployment. Approximate ETA to checkpoint, uh… 1530 hours. Over and out.”

Jensen sticks his walkie into its holster and tosses the rest of the equipment into the back of the truck. There’s not much to do now but pack up and settle in for the long haul. Surveillance starts as soon as they arrive, so they’ll have to be sharp. Cougar looks at his watch: 0930. He should get some sleep while Jensen drives. 

It’s their first assignment since Jensen - Clay, really - had defied orders to rescue Cougar before the go-ahead had been given. Because they are who they are, and because it had been the right decision, nobody had gotten anything more than a brief visit with their superior officers. Which, for Jensen, had been Clay, who had said, “Don’t let it get in the way of the job,” and nothing else. Cougar had asked Jake whether his actions had counted as getting in the way, and Jake had shrugged and stated that he didn’t give a fuck. 

Cougar finds it interesting that Clay had sent them to the middle of nowhere together to set up communications. Maybe he thinks they’re using the privacy to their advantage, but honestly, Cougar is a professional. They’d only fucked three times last night, and not at all this morning. When he’d told that to Jensen, he’d snickered and knocked Cougar upside the head with his spoon, then force-fed him godawful soup at six o’clock in the fucking morning. 

It’s been, quite honestly, the best time of Cougar’s life. 

They finish packing up, then climb in, Jake in the driver’s side and Cougar in the passenger’s. They look at each other, soft eyes and soft hearts so much different than before, and yet not at all. 

“You ready for this?” Cougar asks. “Back to business?”

“With you here? What else do I need?”

“Pooch, Roque, and Clay might help,” Cougar laughs.

“Yeah, laugh it up.” Jensen reaches over and puts a hand on Cougar’s chest. “Got my heart right here, though. The rest don’t matter without that.”

Cougar grabs his hand and kisses each finger in turn. “Then let’s do our jobs.”

“Best in the business. Think I proved that,” Jensen says as he pulls his hand away and turns the key. 

_ Yeah, you sure did _ . _ And I’m gonna make sure you stay that way, _ Cougar thinks, and smiles. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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